In Flames
by SadameHime
Summary: Fenris knew he would never be free. Much of the life he built would end up in flames, the shadow of his former master in the smoke. Hawke has made a new friend, and he has every intention of taking prisoners. Fenris/F!Hawke. Rated M for sexual content
1. Prologue

The Hanged Man could always expect a large margin of profit whenever Emily Hawke and her friends came in for a night of cards and booze. Every few nights the lady mage would rest her staff against the table and settle herself among her friends. Even when she sat beside Isabela, the barkeep could not doubt the levels of her beauty. He knew she must have spent many years growing her deep black hair so long that a man could get lost in the abyssal tresses. The color of her skin rivaled the most valuable pearls, and the green of her eyes challenged the majesty of emeralds. But for all of her beauty, one could never forget that she was a mage. This made her dangerous. This made her a test of faith, and a true man of the Maker would never answer the call of a Witch.

These friends of hers, the Grey Warden and the Dalish elf, the Dwarf and the escaped slave, the guardswoman and the pirate, and on some nights the Lady Hawke's brother, they did not see her as a witch. With enough booze, anyone could forget the kind of magic that woman wielded on a daily basis. They forgot the kind of danger she was, all except for her stunningly good luck at cards.

Emily Hawke always sat herself between the dwarf and the Tevinter Fugitive, her two greatest friends among her companions. On any night, one of these three could be guaranteed to win at least one game. The rest of the table often thought of accusing them of cheating, but with Varric's quick wit, Fenris' stone cold expression, and Hawke's charm, they could never be found out. Despite whatever deal these three had, laughs were always heard when the Lady Hawke gathered her friends.

"Now Hawke, you win a game at least once every night. Are you sure you aren't slipping some cards into your hand?" Aveline said.

"Why Aveline, I'm offended. Do I look like I could fit a full house in these sleeves?" the apostate laughed, holding up both arms.

This was, of course, a rhetorical statement. The lady mage wore such long robes that the sleeves were often too long for her petite frame. She could hide anything in there and often did. If her staff got away from her in combat, she often found a small dagger within the folds or sleeves of her robe. She always thought ahead, but in the days to come, this would fail her.

The Guard Captain shook her head and with a large gulp of ale, allowed her questions to slide. This would be the last time that they would sit down together as a group before Hawke left on her expedition to the Deep Roads, and she wanted this to be a pleasant night.

Isabela collected the cards after the first game was ended, and as she made conversation, she shuffled the cards to begin another game," Who's going to the Deep Roads with you in the morning? Made up your mind yet?"

The mage looked around the table and regarded her friends for a moment. Nearly all of them were halfway down a pint of their choice, and both of the men at her sides returned her inquisitive stares. She knew two of the people who would have her back, for she never went anywhere without them since she had the good fortune to meet them.

"I take it that, since you asked, you would like to go. There's a lot of money to be had.. Could help you with your own problems, right?"

"Its true I could use the coin, but… You need someone who knows the Deep Roads. Why not take Anders?" Isabela's inquiry raised an inaudible, but all too noticeable reaction from Fenris.

Like a defensive mabari, his mouth drew into a thin line and his hair stood on end. He looked at Hawke, and in their own silent language displayed his displeasure to her in narrowed eyes and flaring nostrils. Hawke imagined he would have started growling too if Anders didn't jump into the conversation and display his own unease.

"Oh no. If I can help it, I won't be going near the Deep Roads again. Maybe your brother should go."

Carver was not among them, or he would have already tried to interject himself into the situation. Hawke didn't know what to do about her little brother anymore. She had a feeling that no matter what she decided to do, it would lead him into some kind of danger.

"It may have to be you, Anders," she finally responded," I can't take Aveline—she's going to be guard captain and they need her here in Kirkwall. And Isabela, no offense sweetheart, but I'm not sure I trust you in a camp full of burly men."

"None taken," Isabela said," it's likely I'd keep you from sleeping, and you'd have to punish me with some of that fire and lightning."

The next hand of cards was dealt, and the conversation continued.

"If that's how it has to be, I suppose I could go. You'll need a healer anyway. Maker knows you don't have it in you for that kind of magic, Hawke."

Hawke smiled gently as she examined the hand Isabela had dealt her, and the source of her momentary happiness could only be guessed at. She looked to the elf at her right, knowing all too well what his silence meant. He did not agree to Anders' presence on the expedition. He wouldn't tell her among everyone else, but should he accompany her home, he would make his feelings known.

"I'm just a tiny ol' brute, waving around a pretty stick and slinging lightning at anything that moves, really. If a man gets too close, ZAP!" A very small stream of lightning bounced from Hawke's index finger, striking the edge of the table very near Anders.

The healer raised his brow at the action, but he too found a smile. He took many of Hawke's light hearted actions as a sort of flirt, for at this round table they were the only human mages. They had a connection there, and it was something they both held onto for hope. Still, it meant something different to each of them.

In the way Anders had devoted himself to his connection with Hawke, the lady mage found herself showing the same sort of devotion to her relationship with the elf who sat beside her. They communicated in silence, understood each other just by connecting gazes. There was a closeness in that which Hawke could not feel with Anders. She felt an attraction to Fenris that she did not understand and knew she should fear. The three of them were bound for a collision, and Isabela often tried to set them on their course.

It was this closeness that made Hawke and Fenris terrible opponents in a card game, for it was not their close proximity that blew any bluffs they might hold against one another. Hawke knew Fenris' every small expression just as he knew hers. They could not hold poker faces against one another, and it was in moments like these where another one of their fellows usually had a chance at winning the game.

For this hand, it was Isabela who took the prize. The pirate issued the group a wide grin, and displayed her hand out across the table. Her perfect hand was met with an array of groans and cards thrown upon the table.

Times like those had at a round table in the Hanged Man were the sort of times that got Hawke through the worst trials of her life. She had strong, independent friends, many of whom were eager to lend her aid when she needed it. Some desired more of her. Others didn't even know what they wanted, but she knew. Hawke had known what she wanted since the first time she conjured a flame.

_I don't want to be a mage._

* * *

><p>Even as she lit the fires of the camp in the Deep Roads, Emily Hawke wished she had not been born with magic in her blood. An outstretched hand set aflame a small pile of wood and tinder between four bedrolls that belonged to herself and her companions. They chose to make camp away from Bartrand's lot, if only for quiet. Only mages surrounded this fire for now, for Varric had gone to talk business with his brother and Fenris shouldered the burden of bringing food to the fire that night.<p>

Anders regarded Hawke silently as he always did, noting the expression on her face, the way her lips slipped into a frown as she stared into the palm of her hand. Even her eyes seemed to frown in sadness, something he had seen more often than he cared to admit. He knew this expression to be from when she thought of her own magic, the magic-she said- that kept her brother down, that enslaved her entire family to an insular life. He wondered if she had forgotten that she was not the only mage in her family, that it had been her father before her and her sister after her who also had to hide from the Templars in Lothering. No, certainly she knew. The knowledge seemed to be no cure for the guilt, and her sad expression could only be interrupted by the sound of Fenris' approach.

The sound of leather boots clicking against the stone of the Deep Roads had alerted her to his approach in a way Anders' questioning eyes did not, and the strong face many people knew emerged. She moved to sit on her knees, and with careful hands reached out to take the cooking equipment from the elf that had joined them. In silence, Fenris and Hawke prepared a meal for their small party.

It had been like this for days, idle conversation found only over the meals themselves. The mage and the former slave spoke to each other in hushed tones that cause a pang of jealousy to strike at Anders' heart. He wondered at their close friendship, at how the Tevinter Fugitive had grown so comfortable with something he had time and again declared the object of his hatred. He wondered how the elf so garnered the attentions of the strong woman that had stood at the center of their group for some months now. He envied him.

"Varric should be coming back soon," Hawke said.

Her voice was joined by the sound of sizzling vegetables and meat. She meant to go out of her way for them since this would be the last fresh meal they would have in the Deep Roads. From here on out, it would be preserved provisions.

"Were the dwarven brothers having another argument again?" Anders inquired.

"Yes. Bartrand has been a rain cloud above the whole expedition. He's not at all a friendly and personable sort like his brother, and it takes everything Varric has to keep some of the others from deserting. I suppose the impending threat of darkspawn will start keeping them in line now—we're almost to our destination."

Fenris backed away from the fire and allowed Hawke to tend the flame and the food as she spoke. Anders watched the elf's eyes focus in on the woman. It seemed they both had a habit of keeping Hawke in their sight.

"Thank the Maker for that. I don't know how much more I can take of being down here. It makes me think of poor Ser Pounce-a-lot."

Hawke smiled," Anders, if it makes you happy.. After this expedition is over, I'll donate a small portion of my funds for you to purchase a new cat, or set out a fresh bowl of cream every day until a suitable kitten walks into your clinic. Would that please you?"

"There are a lot of things that could please me Hawke," Anders paused, " I should think that a group of cats might just gain me unwanted attention from the Templars. They'd lead them to me!"

Anders noticed the elf near Hawke go into one of his moods as Anders paused to finish his thought, gauntleted hands grasping handfuls of rock as if to calm himself. Fenris had interpreted every word Anders had said as a flirtatious gesture and did not like the thought. It seem that Hawke also heard the playful flick of Anders' words, for she stumbled over her thoughts, not sure what she should say or think. Instead of speaking, Hawke fell into silence.

And it would be this silence, this back and forth jealousy, that would mar the relationship of these three people for years to come.


	2. Homecoming and the Deep Roads

Homecoming and the Deep Roads

The weight of gold and ancient Dwarven treasures put Hawke in a foul and unhappy mood. She had insisted that everyone take an equal weight, but she knew that it was a terrible idea. The small of her back ached with displeasure and it soured her mood to the point of spoiling. She did not like pain.

She did not like the stale smell of the air in the Deep Roads either. She yearned to see the sun again, to feel grass at the tips of her fingers, to smell fresh air. Each and every step she took brought her closer to that fate, and she was determined to have a nice pint of ale at the Hanged Man upon arrival. She needed a swift change of pace.

Beside her, Fenris noted her displeasure. Pain played itself out on her face but never dared reveal itself in her voice. He was the only one that could see her face for Varric and Anders walked behind them. The dull pain the load of valuables had put on her would soon grow to something worse. Her shoulders slumped forward under the weight of the bag, and she bent her back into an uncomfortable position. He knew this to be how she walked when she was in pain, and it likely had nothing to do with the weight.

"Give me your bag, Hawke."

"Its fine, Fenris. I've got it."

"No, I can tell it's hurting you. You only walk like that when you're in pain. Give it here, or I shall take it," She seemed shocked that he knew that, or realized it even.

Without further argument, Hawke lifted the bag of valuables from her shoulder and passed it to Fenris. He seemed far less concerned with the weight as he took it, and Hawke could already feel her back straightening out.

"Thank you."

Fenris made a non-committal noise to acknowledge her thanks, and they fell into silence once more. Too much talk would gather the attention of darkspawn, or worse, as they made their way out of the Deep Roads.

It took them a great many hours to reach a part of the Deep Roads that did not reek of the Thaig they left behind them. Statues of Dwarven Paragons began to make their appearance, and they brought a knowing smile to Hawke's face. She knew they were getting closer, but she knew that they would be in more danger from darkspawn now.

The length corridor rang with the sound of a large bell, being struck by something unnatural. Anders seemed on edge as Hawke peered around at her companions.

"What was that? Are there darkspawn nearby, Anders?"

"There are."

Fenris removed both bags from his shoulders and pulled out his blade. He intended to be ready in case anything came toward them. The bell sounded like a warning, perhaps to them, perhaps to let other darkspawn know that there were others approaching. Behind him, Anders and Varric removed their own burdens and prepared for a fight. This did not bode well.

Hawke turned to get behind a fallen pillar near an opening into another smaller hallway. Anders followed suit, earning a glare from Fenris as he did so. The elf would keep watch on them, knowing that the darkspawn could come from anywhere.

"Here they come! Get ready," Varric called out. He could see a group of darkspawn coming from where they had heard the noise.

Four grunts charged at them head on while three archers shot at them from behind the primary line. Arrows landed at Fenris' feet, and he looked to Hawke and Anders. They had the right idea.

"We need to get out of here. It's too open. We have to drag them somewhere we won't be such open targets.. Through here!" Hawke turned toward the hall she had been close to, and her friends followed.

They would return for their packs after they put the darkspawn down. Right now, they had to find a better place to fight them. No place would be better than the small, narrow hallway they stumbled upon as they ran for cover.

Hawke turned as soon as she was satisfied, casting a tempest just at the opening where the darkspawn would come after them. The four grunts passed through it, taking several bolts of lightning as they did so. They were more resilient than the three archers, who after standing in the tempest were quickly felled. Fenris met the four grunts that pushed through the tempest with a heavy swing of his blade, stopping one of the grunts in their tracks. Two of them were distracted by the death of their fellow, and they were quickly dealt with by the bolts from Bianca and the fire from Fenris' staff. The last found its gaze focused on Hawke, and Fenris was quick to respond.

He chased after the darkspawn who came after Hawke. She used much of her strength to cast another lightning bolt at it, and when this was insufficient, ran further into the hall. Her iron will had failed her somehow, and all she could think about was fighting the darkspawn in Lothering. With it so close, she feared her friends would have to tell her mother how the corruption, or the darkspawn, had taken another of her children. She meant to put space between herself and the darkspawn when Fenris came down on it with all of his fury. She was not successful.

Its strike missed her, and Fenris brought it down very near the lady mage. She stopped and stared at him, shocked with how close she had come to being struck down by the grunt. He looked back at her with questioning eyes, but before he could speak his mind, the bell rang again. This time the ring was louder, sharper, intense enough that the Thaig itself quaked.

"Get the bags. We need to move, now," Hawke spoke with a wavering voice.

Fenris and Anders watched her with concerned as they back away and ran to retrieve what they left behind.

She turned her back on them, focusing on the sound of the ringing bell. Even that reminded her of home, the Chantry calling its followers to worship in the early mornings. With some measure of regret, she noted how much the Deep Roads reminded her of the darker times in Ferelden, how much they frightened her and caused her pain. They made her think of Bethany, cold and dead and broken by the ogre. She never wanted to show this weakness to her friends, her deep fear of the darkspawn.

As soon as the others re-joined her, they ran as fast as they could until the ringing became quiet and Anders confirmed they were out of reach of further darkspawn. For safety, they hid in one of the small, abandoned homes that the dwarves left behind. It was better than making camp out in the open, and they could set a decent fire with whatever they could find.

"What do you think that was? Do Dwarven Thaigs often have giant bells in them?" Anders asked as they sat around the fire.

Hawke pulled her knees up to her chest and stared in the fire. She wanted to go home.

"I'm the wrong dwarf to ask, blondy. I've been a surface since I was born. Speaking of surface, it seems like Hawke needs some fresh air. You got scared back there. It's not like you," Varric sounded concerned.

"Mmm, I know. I don't really know what got into me. I started thinking about Bethany, and it got so close to me that I imagined the three of you having to go home and tell my mother the darkspawn took another one of her children."

"I wouldn't have let that happen, Hawke," Fenris said.

She nodded at him, for she knew this to be true. Out of them all, it was often Fenris who jumped into the middle of the fray to protect her. He understood her power as a mage, and because of Danarius, surely feared it. His years as a slave taught him something else too: mages were as fragile as they were powerful. She had not the strength to carry the kind of armor to protect her from any blows, and he meant to keep that pain away from her. Anders wouldn't have to heal her if Fenris took the blows instead.

They had escaped the darkspawn without anyone taking serious blows. They could spend that night resting and chatting over the fire, knowing that their dried fruits and jerky were becoming scarce. They would have to reach the surface soon, or they would starve and die of thirst in the Deep Roads.

Two days later, the sight of the sun was welcoming.

* * *

><p>Hawke had been in the Deep Roads with her companions for so long that she forgot what fresh air tasted like, how bright the sun shined, or how crisp, green grass smelled. When she crawled out of that hell hole Bartrand had locked them in, she felt stronger. Despite the hardships they had endured, she knew that there would be a pay-off. With her friends behind her, she began the long journey back to Kirkwall.<p>

All the while, Fenris was at her side and Anders at her back. Varric maintained a friendly, comfortable distance. While Hawke may have been unaware of the growing tension between the two men, the dwarf could see it clearly. She had wormed her way into both of their hearts, as much as Fenris would probably deny it, and it would brew into a bitter and angry rivalry. As if their opposing viewpoints on mages weren't enough, they now had Hawke to argue over.

So long as neither man made forward attempts at courting the lady mage, there would always be a tentative peace. Varric wondered how long it had been since these tensions started brewing, for he had noticed it in the Deep Roads as they traveled alone. Hawke's destructive power always drew too much attention, and Fenris would rally to her side, ridiculing Anders' slower attempts at healing her all the while. They argued even when there were no enemies to attack about on another's tactics when it came to protecting Hawke. While they did so, the centerpiece of their arguments often went ahead alone. Tensions were higher than Varric had perceived.

Each day they spent on the surface lead to Hawke's spirits brightening. Varric did some hunting, somehow, and came up with the meals for them each night. Bianca had a way of finding a prime deer rather quickly, and the venison proved to be a filling and welcome feast in comparison to the jerky and dried fruits the four of them had to eat while they were in the Deep Roads.

That night, Fenris sat beside the fire Hawke had conjured up for them, skinning a deer that Varric had brought to them. Somewhere along the road, Hawke had caught her leg in a rough place and twisted her ankle. She sat at the opposite side of the fire from Fenris, and Anders gave her ankle some of his attention since the strain had caused her such discomfort she called for an early stop. It did not warrant healing, but he wrapped it just as well.

His hands worked quickly to wrap some loose linen around the lady's ankle, and as he did so, Anders spoke to her in hushed tones.

"I don't see why you put up with that animal.."

"The deer? Varric? Fenris? You have to be more specific than that, Anders," Hawke joked.

She meant to avoid the conversation for she knew all too well whom Anders meant. It was a name he had given to Fenris since the day the healer and former slave first met.

"You know who I'm talking about Hawke.."

He tightened the wrappings enough that it caused Hawke to hiss in slight pain. The noise had been enough to cause Fenris to look away from his task, and his eyes fell on Anders full of accusation. He spoke not a word as the lady mage followed her hiss of pain with a gentle laugh to dispel his worry. She was surprised at how easily these two men could be at each other's throats.

"He isn't an animal, for one thing. As to why I put up with him? It's because I like him. There's some good in there, somewhere. His former master just buried it deep under a lot of pain," Hawke began," and besides, I believe in giving everyone a chance."

"Everyone?"

"Yes, Anders. Everyone. Even Isabela. Even _you_. I should have killed you right then and there with Justice came out, because Maker help me, I thought you were an abomination. I didn't though, and here we sit discussing another person's worthiness when even yours may fall into question."

He didn't know if that was supposed to comfort or hurt him, but the lady spoke not another word until he finished wrapping her ankle. A soft thank you was all he received even then, and she stood to walk around the fire toward Fenris and Varric, leaving Anders to stew in the hidden meanings of her retort for the rest of the night.

She sat down with some measure of difficulty between them both, laying her injured leg straight out in front of her. Hawke could not believe the man at the other side of the fire. He preached all day about freedom for mages, yet when it came to Fenris who deserved freedom just as much, he treated him like garbage, like he was still a slave. The lady mage wondered if Fenris could see anything of Danarius in the mannerisms of the healer. Perhaps that would explain their quarrels.

No, she would be fooling herself to believe that. She knew of Anders' quiet affections for her, and she knew of her own affection for Fenris. She favored him over the rest. Her version of giving him a chance had included listening to his opinions and often siding with him, or when she could do neither of those things, leaving him behind so she could act as she would see fit without upsetting him. With Anders, giving him a chance included rarely bringing him along and doing what she pleased regardless of his opinions. To everyone around her, it was obvious she favored the Tevinter elf, and there was nothing subtle at all about it.

Fenris watched her struggle with her injured ankle as he finished preparing the deer for cooking. He knew that she would not have had so much trouble with it if it had not been wrapped, but at the healer's discretion, she had allowed it to be so. He hoped it would at the very least help her sleep, for it pained her so much just to walk on it. He knew there had been no break, since Anders had loudly announced it to them over the crackling of the flames just moments ago. The woman who had left them in pain returned to them in a slowly boiling anger, and he wondered just what they had discussed over her injury.

"Are you alright, Hawke?" He questioned.

"Just fine, Fenris. Thank you," Hawke said," Varric, could you do the cooking for the night. It's awful hard to move and I don't think it would be very easy to get comfortable by the fire with my ankle like it is."

The dwarf nodded to her and came closer to the fire to tend to the cooking. However, Fenris was not satisfied with Hawke's clear dismissal of his question. She still appeared angry, even though she claimed to be 'fine'.

"No, something is wrong. You can't hide that from me."

She looked at him with a surprised look on her face, as if she couldn't believe he had pressed the conversation further. She huffed loudly to announce further displeasure, but she answered him plainly.

"It's Anders. He's being childish again."

As she spoke, the other mage of the party retreated to his tent. It's likely he knew exactly what they were talking about and didn't want to hear a word.

"If he upsets you so, why keep him around? Surely Merrill can learn some restorative magic and accompany us instead."

"Merrill's a sweetheart, but she dabbles in blood magic and I will have no part of that. It's not that I don't trust her, it's just…"

"The blood magic," Fenris finished for her. He was met with a nod from Hawke.

Varric dropped four portions of the venison onto a steaming hot frying pan. The sizzle and aroma that accompanied it left Hawke hungry, dismissing some of her anger. She was glad for these boys at every moment of the day, for they found ways to make her feel better without saying a word.

"I suppose if Anders gets any less tolerable, I'll have to learn some restorative magic myself and take care of everyone. I just took to fire and lightning very early on, and never cared to venture out of my comfort zone."

"I'm sure there would be no argument from the others. Aveline has mentioned her desire to go with you more than once since I met you, Hawke."

"Oh, I know. She's just as sweet, and with you, me, Varric and her, there would be no argument over what to do. I think you just came up with the dream team, Fenris," Hawke smiled again, a brief flash to indicate her further dissipating anger.

Fenris gave her a smile of his own in this unguarded moment. With Varric's back turned to him and Anders out of sight, it felt a little easier to show how he felt. Hawke seemed to have that way with people. He had seen it at work in himself, but also with Aveline who trusted Hawke above all others and often came to her to seek advice about the guardsmen. He saw it in Varric, who confided in her over Bartrand's betrayal since they left the Deep Roads. He saw it in Anders who coveted her above all others, and in Isabela, who could openly smile and laugh and joke with the lady mage as if they were sisters. Though the women's morals often clashed and caused conflict, Isabela had greatly comforted Hawke in the time they had known one another.

He assumed Hawke surrounded herself with all of these people because she had lost so much in her transition from Ferelden to Kirkwall. He had heard her speak often of the work she did just to gain passage into the city, the kind of work that had led her to him in the first place. She regarded them all as more than friends, as family. Her sister had passed on when they tried to escape the Blight, and her brother was less than agreeable with her because of her magic. Fenris had heard her say often that she just belonged with all of them, and that comforted him.

"One strong arm to fight back the masses, one to protect you from the warriors that get around the first, and Varric—"

"To sing pretty songs with Bianca, and kill every last one of the bastards," Varric chimed in.

He turned to flash them both a grin," It'll be ready soon. I'll go get blondy in a minute."

As they drew nearer to the city, Hawke's face grew brighter, happier. She stopped for a moment and began to gather her robes in her hands, reducing their length to her knees. She took off in a slow jog despite her injury, calling out to her friends.

"Come on, we're almost there!"

"Hawke, slow down," Fenris sighed.

The elf was the first to follow after adjusting the load upon his back. He shouldered much of the burden that came from the treasures of the Deep Roads, but he had enough strength to chase after the excited mage. He wanted to be just behind her in case her attempt at running further injured her ankle. She had been in such pain in the days before that he could hardly believe she was off and running ahead of him.

Anders did not have the energy to follow, and he remained behind with Varric. He watched the two run ahead, knowing that the crowds of the city would slow them, and the mage and the dwarf would find them easily.

"How long are you going to pussy foot around the situation, Blondy?" Varric stated once Fenris and Hawke were out of earshot.

"Erm, excuse me?"

"You know what I'm talking about. You and Broody are circling around each other like two stray dogs fighting over a bitch in heat. She's going to catch on eventually and what do you think is going to happen when she does?"

"She'll choose the better man, Varric. Hawke is wise," Anders said.

"That begs the question: which is the better man?"

"I am, of course. Fenris is an animal, a wild beast. He's going to hurt her eventually, and when he does, I'll be there for her."

Varric shook his head and sighed deeply," She won't want you to be there. Hawke handles her personal problems on her own, always has."

"If Fenris injures her, it won't be a personal problem. It will be a problem belonging to all of us."

Varric looked ahead of him, noting the way the elf stayed close behind the lady mage. He was careful of her, ever aware of her injury and obviously taking care that she did not hurt herself as she ran ahead of them. The dwarf wondered if such care and hidden worry would ever dissipate enough for the elf to lose his temper and harm the girl.

"I don't think he has it in him, blondy."

Deep down, Anders hoped that Varric was very, very wrong.

Hawke remembered the last time she ran through tall grass, laughing and smiling as happily as she did in that moment. She had been with Bethany and Carver—her two siblings barely adolescent—when her father had returned one day. It had been a very long time since they had seen them, and all at once, they crossed the fields outside of Lothering to greet him.

Now, she raced as quickly as she could to see what remained of her family. She found herself followed by three friends, one of them hot on her tail while the others took their time. She didn't blame them, given how far they had traveled that day. She had so much to tell, so much to give. For the first time in many years, Hawke was proud of what she was providing for her family.

Tall weeds and wispy grasses itched at Hawke's legs and knuckled as she ran, holding up her robes in both hands. The gates were just ahead, and once she reached them, her running was reduced to a slow crawl. Fenris stopped just behind her, and he followed so closely she could feel his presence. He meant not to lose her in the crowd, and in order to do so, he had to keep close. Hawke was a small woman, easily lost in a sea of tall Free Marchers. She never seemed to mind having him so close, and in fact, she found comfort in it. She never liked being alone, given her situation. An apostate mage all by herself was an easy target in Kirkwall, and her friends knew that. She had nothing to protect her from the Templars, at least not yet.


	3. Parchment and Pain

Fenris had seen much since his return from the Deep Roads. He had killed many people in the name of the mage they called Emily Hawke, but until that day, he had never once screamed at her. Over a glass of wine, he considered his actions in the Slave Dens.

_What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil?_

He had wilted her with that one sentence. Did she think he meant her? No, magic had not wilted her. Hawke was a magnificent creature, seemingly immune to all of the taint that had dragged other mages down. She stood again and again against the temptations of blood magic, spat in the faces of those that gave in, and she dealt swift justice to anyone who tried to use it on her. She stood beside him when he needed her most, and he had carved into her with such vicious words, loaded with the poison of accusation. She did not lash out at him in return. Hawke had let him go, and she had not sought him out since.

Even when he had lashed out at her, she had been so beautiful. Her skin was so pale compared to his own, the complexion of her face flawless. She had painted her lips that day, Maker only knows why, but the crimson color had drove him mad when she came to him and asked for his company to the Wounded Coast. He wanted to brush all of her void black hair out of her face, tussled and knotted from combat. Even in her appearance she was his opposite, yet he wanted nothing more than to know what it felt like to hold her, to kiss her.

He could never admit that to anyone. No one could know of how he spent his time alone, thinking of her. He dreamt of her touch as much as he feared it. He imagined the pleasures that might come with it, but he remembered the pain of the last time a mage had touched him. Hawke's hands were clean. She had never touched blood magic in her life. She could never hurt him like that.

* * *

><p>When he approached her that night and lost control of his desire, Fenris had become aware of two things. First, Hawke's lips tasted like peaches. Secondly, her kisses would not hurt him. In fact, they had the opposite effect. Each time her lips shifted against his, a fragment of the pain and anger that had resurfaced since Hadriana's appearance slipped from his mind. Her body called out to him. He wanted to feel her closer still, to remove all barriers between them.<p>

As Hawke held him against the wall and kissed him passionately, her hands rested against his chest, not daring to touch his bare skin. Fenris would have this change, and he let his hold of Hawke's backside go in order to remove his gauntlets. One by one, he tossed them to the floor of the entryway to her estate, all too eager to grip her rear with his bare hands. She let out a soft squeak as he did so, and it brought a smile to both of their faces. He found that he liked all of the sounds she made.

This seemed to be encouragement enough for her hands to leave their careful position. Hawke's arms wound around his neck as she lifted herself to his level, intent on continuing their dance. His tongue pressed against her lips, asking for the right of passage. She gave it to him gladly, and their tongue's tangled in a mess of a hasty, new union.

Fenris had never known a woman so intimately, and the levels of intimacy would continue to be pushed. The desire he felt surging to the surface pushed back all of the fear, and his aversion to touch quickly fell to the need to have more. Hawke seemed to sense this about him, and after a soft, delightful kiss, she took his hand in hers and stepped back from him.

"Come with me. We shouldn't do this here.."

Hawke lead him through the first hall of her home and up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving behind his gauntlets. Certainly they could be gathered in the morning, and at the moment, that was the least of their worries. Fenris' attention was focused on the lady mage's swaying hips as she walked in front of him. It seemed the finery she wore just before bed accentuated her curvature far more than the mage robes ever would. He could have walked behind her all day staring at her backside and spoke not a word of discontent.

As soon as Hawke shut the door, Fenris was upon her. It was his turn to press her against the wall, dominating her small, petite frame with his lithe form. His lips connected with hers once more, gentle and careful. Neither of them knew the limits of what was to pass between them that night. Fenris feared asking too much of her as well as himself. He was surprised as Hawke reached between them and untied the wraps of her finery and pulled the layers over her head to reveal the band around her breasts, the little scars from the battles she had fought, and her freckles.

As he looked at her, taking in the vision of beauty before him, he found himself focusing on the freckles most of all. He gathered her up and held her closer, dipping his head into the cradle of her neck and kissing the tender flesh there. She let out a delighted giggle, whispered his name in his ear, and grasped at his shoulders in an attempt to hold herself up. The heat of her breath, the sound of her voice as she said is name, it was all too much.

Fenris dropped Hawke back to the floor, his hands working to free himself from his armor. Once she realized his intentions, his companion joined him. It was not long before they had cast off the chest plate, the leather beneath it, and the skintight shirt Fenris wore to protect his chest from the rough texture of the leather. As soon as he was free, he stared at Emily Hawke, who in turn stared at him. Her eyes were focused on his markings, taking in the details. She reached out with hesitant hands to trace the lines down his sternum, and this caused the first flash of pain, the first memories.

_Leto, come along! Help me with the laundry._

Hawke must not have noticed the vacant, distracted expression on his face as she kissed him and once more followed the lines of lyrium down his throat with gentle, butterfly kisses. Another flash. Another voice, this time his own.

_I've won. I want them free._

He shook his head, trying to free himself from the voices that were not there and the sensations that did not come from Hawke's pleasing attentions. He scooped her up once more and pulled her close, using the wall as leverage to keep her feet off the floor and her face level with his own. In an instant, her legs were around his waist, the lady mage just as intent on staying level with him. His hands gripped her rear admiringly, sliding beneath the fabric of her small clothes to better feel the softness of her skin. She shivered in his arms as their bodies pressed together all too eager for the warmth of the other. For the moment, the pain vanished. The feeling of her skin against the tattoos caused nothing but delight and need. He would have her.

Fenris decided enough was enough, and without a second thought lifted Hawke away from the wall and carried her over to her bed. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck and did whatever she could to help him with the labor, but even as they tumbled downward, she realized it had been in vain. His arms had held fast and true to their purpose, Emily Hawke had not slipped an inch in his arms even as they lay upon her bed. Together, they had fallen on their sides. The lady mage had unhooked her legs from the elf's waist just in time, and there she snuggled close to him.

While Fenris managed to maintain his focus and sense, Hawke had lost all of her own. After a prolonged moment of heated kisses and hands exploring the bodies of their lovers, Hawke rolled Fenris onto his back and straddled him across his waist. He felt her press herself against his hard desire, a sensation entirely new and palpable. He drew a deep breath, and the mage above him grined widely as she removed the band around her chest.

Fenris believed that the Maker was indeed cruel to keep such a beautiful sight bound beneath such restrictive cloth. Where she might find flaws, Fenris found unique and lovely qualities. Her breasts fit in his hands as if they belonged there. He delighted in all of her small, natural markings. The mole between her breasts, the light brown, heart shaped birthmark upon her shoulder blade, the dustings of light freckles along her arms and legs, he loved them all. He imagined that she felt similarly as her hands explored his chest once more, following the patterns of his own markings. The thing he despised was the thing Hawke delighted in. The 'beauty' of them drew her in.

The gentle pads of her finger tips found every pattern and shape above his waist, for it seemed that neither of them was ready to make the leap. Fenris could hear voices calling at him from the back of his mind again, blurry flashes of wide open courtyards and young elves passing over the images of reality. He would not have this ruin his chance at happiness. Hawke was so close to him, so intent on being a careful and gentle lover to him. Things he had only dreamed of were coming true and unfolding before him as visions of his forgotten past lashed at him from the darkness. He would drown out the pain with more pleasure. He would fight the voices in his head with Hawke's delightful little squeals and giggles. The only darkness he would know existed in the lady mage's hair. Just once, he wanted to forget everything.

Fenris reached out with both hands, grasping the face of his lover and pulling her into a sensual and powerful kiss once more. Hawke took this as a sign from him, and her tender touched vanished from him briefly. She found the ties of his leggings, pulling the string as open for him as she could. Together, the two of them struggled to remove the last barrier Fenris had to hide behind. His small clothes went with the leggings as he kicked and pulled them away from him with his feet. He refused to let go of the woman on top of him, and she would have it no other way.

The sensation of her bare skin against his manhood quickly drove away the voices that screamed at echoed at him from the back of his head. An electric, pleasing spark shot through him and he knew that he had found paradise. For nearly three years, it had been within his grasp. Fenris gasped to himself and lingered still, savoring the warm body against his own. Hawke took this opportunity to remove the rest of her small clothes and straddle his hips properly. She did not press her desires further, only proceeded to lean forward and continue kissing the object of her affection.

Outside, a loud bump alerted them briefly to the world outside of the bedroom. Fenris was the first between them to jolt upright and stare toward Hawke's window, though his hands never left her body. She followed his gaze and held onto him in return as she remained sitting on top of him, waiting for any other noise that would tell them there was trouble. Nothing. Silence.

"What was that?" Fenris asked, his hands drifting still lower upon his lover's back.

"Does it matter?"

Her response to his question was clear. No interruptions. They had come this far, why not seal the deal?

* * *

><p>"Hawke? Are you home?" Isabela called out as she stepped through the door.<p>

Normally, she didn't play matchmaker. However, with Anders following just behind her and a full tab waiting to be paid at the Hanged Man, she had no better options. He had told her that if she helped him 'win Hawke', then he would pay her tab. Simple enough, or so she thought.

"Those are Fenris' gauntlets. Why are they laying out on the floor here?" Anders stepped around the pirate, taking note of what the elf had discarded.

"Hate to say it, Anders.. But I think you're a little late."

A loud, but not unpleasant female yelp echoed out from Hawke's room. It was enough to confirm Isabela's assumption.

"We see neither hide nor hair of the animal for three days, and the first thing he does is crawl into Hawke's bed? What is this?" Anders said.

Isabela feared her tab might not be paid for as she went further into the home of their leader. All else was clean. Hawke's house shoes had never left their place by her staircase, where she tended to keep them if it was not too cold in the house. Behind her, Anders seethed and mumbled to himself about his failure. Before her, just up the stairs, the sounds of lovemaking began to echo louder, Hawke's voice joined by Fenris' own.

She winced to herself as she neared Hawke's desk, her eyes drawn to the letter on top.

_Dearest Emily Hawke,_

_After closely examining your accounts, I have found several suitable ventures occurring in and near Kirkwall that may serve to expand your holdings. Well on your way to becoming a noble in the city, it may be of the greatest interest to yourself and parties concerned that we meet once more to discuss what I have found over a fine dinner. You may find me at any time of the day for the next week at the Gilded Terrace in Hightown. I'm eager to speak with you again._

_Sincerely,_

_Silas Aurelius_

"We should go."

* * *

><p>"Oh Maker… Fenris!"<p>

Hawke was a vocal lover, and there could be no doubt in that as Fenris overtook her. He grabbed onto her tightly and rolled with her, pressing her onto her back so that he might be in control. She made no argument, her pleased and desperate cries enough to state that she rather liked the thought. The elf cradled her close with one arm and attempted to hold himself up with another.

He knew there had to be some kind of technique to this, but as soon as the nerves and fears had broken away their union became a hasty and instinctual coupling. Fenris pressed into her with everything he had, Hawke's cries for more egging him on. They blotted out each other's cries and moans with unthinking kisses, only occasionally hitting their targets. Hawke's legs wound themselves around her lover's waist, eager to welcome him deeper into her body. Fenris could ask for nothing more.

How long had they dreamed of this moment? Fenris knew of his attraction to the mage when jealousy reared its ugly head when he was first introduced to Anders. The way they had greeted each other sickened him, made him want to step between them and safeguard Hawke from the abomination. Slowly, he noticed her begin to invite him with her more often. And then the Deep Roads Expedition occurred where he worked himself to the bone protecting her from the dangers that tried to encroach upon her.

His infatuation and protection of her had been natural, for all of his memorable life he had protected a magister, yet here was this mage who regarded him as a free man, as someone worth her time. Now, he was worth her love, worth invitation to her most sacred of places. Fenris was worthy of her, of a place in her bed and her heart. All of this she gave without asking anything of him he had not offered first.

In many ways, she was his opposite. Where his skin was dark, she was fair. Where her hair was black, his was white. Where his body had been viciously marred by unnatural processes, hers remained untouched and made beautiful by her own natural markings. He needed her for it. His life would never be complete without this other half.

And yet as he neared his peak with her, a pleasure he had never experienced building up and tensing his whole body, he could already feel uncertainty. Would he be strong enough to get through the visions, the voices, when they inevitably came again? Hawke's every touch had awoken these things inside of him until her velvet walls enveloped him. He wanted to tell himself he could handle anything to touch her like this every night, to explore the beauty beneath him. These thoughts distracted him long enough for him to carry Hawke to her own peak, and he followed just behind her.

He could hear their voices echo through the room, moans and cries and hushed mantras consisting only of the other's name. As his thrusts came to a halt, he dropped himself against her and kissed her once more. His weight must have been crushing, the intensity of the kiss exhausting her breath, but she made no argument. Her arms wound tight around him, and she moaned to him through the kiss.

It very well may have been the last chance he would ever have to kiss her, for his thoughts bounced around and told him of how he feared this as much as he desired it. Fenris had never been allowed to be happy. Very few slaves were ever allowed to keep their loved ones, their families, close to them. As he allowed Hawke escape from his crushing weight, enveloping her and pulling her backside tight against him, he showered her with affection. He kissed her shoulders, kept her hair away from her face, allowed his hands to wander her body.

Both of them were too tired to mind the mess made by their coupling. Hawke welcomed his embrace and together they recovered in silence until the lady fell asleep in his arms, safe and secure. Fenris could not find sleep. All of the voices and visions he had overpowered in their lovemaking came surging forth anew, teasing him with things that may or may never have happened.

It all felt so familiar, the voices he wanted to call mother, sister, father. Every vision he wanted to place an age to: five, eight, and thirteen. He knew he was twenty-five now, basic age-keeping all that the slaves were often allowed to know.

He didn't know his birthday, and he remembered how this had upset the woman in his arms. She had been so thoughtful, intent on celebrating for him as she celebrated for everyone else. So instead, she celebrated his 'birthday' on the anniversary of the day they met. Fitting really, for he had never felt as alive as he did on that day since the time he spent with the Fog Warriors. Everyone received a gift from her on their birthday, and on his she had given him the Book of Shartan. Many nights before this one, she had been close at hand teaching him how to read. Would it all fall apart if he let this visions get the best of him? He prayed not, for the longer he lay in silence, the more certain he became that the fear of what would attack this happiness would overcome the good that could come from it. He could not stay.


End file.
